


my life's been like a dream

by towokuwusatsuwu



Series: Pride 2018: 30 Days of S.W.O.R.D. [6]
Category: HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity, Introspection, M/M, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Personal Growth, Polyamory, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 09:52:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14871507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: “I’d like to see that day when it comes, I think,” Genji says.In the process of gathering his things, Ryu freezes and turns to face him, a curious expression on his pretty face. “What do you mean by that?”“The day when you’re comfortable enough in yourself to let someone else in,” Genji explains, watching Ryu’s face carefully. “You’re already deadly with a sword and could easily take most of the enemies you’d encounter. I’d be interested to see the skill increase when you feel better.”Ryu smirks at him, fastens his sheath back to his belt. “I’ll make sure to spar you first thing, then. I’ll bet you that I’ll manage to defeat you, even disarm you, when I’m happy with myself.”The thought makes Genji smirk. The devil works hard, but Genji works harder.





	my life's been like a dream

The first time the two of them meet formally, Genji is returning to his room for the night, sword sheathed and out of sight, and the only child of the Ryu family is walking away from their private quarters with a plastic bag in hand. It takes Genji a moment to make out the shape of the silhouette, the missing curtain of black hair throwing him off for just a moment until the two of them are close enough to see one another’s faces in the moonlight streaming down from the clear night sky. Before Genji can say anything, a knife is at his throat.

“Impressive,” he remarks, unsurprised at the skill, the speed, the quickness even as the cold metal threatens to break skin. “You shouldn’t be out and about this late.”

A quiet scoff is his answer, followed by a lift of the bag. This close, Genji can see the missing hair inside, tendrils and tangles of black. “I have trash to take out.”

“Giving yourself a haircut in the middle of the night?” Genji smirks at the thought; this child is nineteen, almost twenty and, he would have thought, well past the rebellion stage. “I’ll escort you to get rid of it, then. If something happened to you, it’d be my head.”

“You’re only allowed to escort me if you recognize the real me.” The defiant voice quivers around the edges just the same, and Genji can see a slight tremor in those slender fingers that grip the hilt of the knife so tightly that scarred knuckles bleach white. “I don’t care what you’ve seen or been told, but I am the  _ son _ of the Ryu line. Ryu Tatsuhito.”

The name rolls off of the young man’s tongue with ease, though there is a quaver that runs all the way through the word that Genji can understand in this instance. He wraps his hand around Ryu’s wrist, pulling it smoothly away from his throat, not gripping tightly because he knows better than anyone that Ryu is not someone he needs to consider a danger and therefore does not need to treat like a danger. Ryu’s dark eyes bore into his very being, daring him to contradict the statements placed before him.

“Ryu Tatsuhito,” he echoes instead, and watches Ryu’s eyes widen slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s get rid of your hair so we can get you back to bed.”

The walk to the waste cans at the back of the house is a silent affair and Genji keeps a hand on the hilt of his sword in case any danger were to arise, confident in his ability to protect the younger man. If worse comes to worst— and it won’t, because Genji is not easily defeated and no matter how many times he is taken down, he never stays down— then Ryu seems capable with his knife and will probably be able to protect himself.

Kuryu grounds are safe, for the most part. No one would be foolish enough to try to break into the house of the largest yakuza family in this city and several neighboring ones as well. Just the same, Genji is not tempted to see how well those safety precautions hold by allowing Ryu to wander around in the dark on his own. Genji has been with Kuryu too long to assume he can ever rely on anyone else in favor of his own skill.

Ryu drops the bag of hair in one of the cans and sets the lid back on it, exhaling slowly, the tension leaving his slender shoulders as he does. “Are you going to tell anyone about this?”

“If asked, I’ll confirm that I escorted you here and back to your bedroom to ensure your safety,” Genji says, and Ryu glances at him, his bangs still long enough to shadow his eyes. “That is all I’ll have to say, though. You can do the rest at your own discretion.”

“Thank you.” Ryu unties and reties the sash of his robe, then turns to Genji and nods once. “To my bedroom, then. Thank you for keeping my safety in mind.”

Ryu walks a little taller, a little more confidently back to his bedroom, and Genji remains on the alert just the same. This is none of his business, he knows, but he decides that should Ryu decide to make it known that he is, in fact, a son of Kuryu, then Genji will back up his word and make sure that no one disrespects him as long as he is here with them. How his father will react to this is a mystery; the older generations are known for being less accepting and knowledgeable, but Ryu has obviously decided to handle this nonetheless.

At the doorway to the Ryu family quarters, Ryu turns to face him once more, his spine straight, chin high. “I want you to teach me how to use a sword.”

“Do you now?” Genji cocks his head. “You seem quite accomplished with that knife of yours.”

“I want to learn how to use it better, and I want to learn to fight with a sword like I’ve seen you do. It’s interesting to me, and I think I can do it.” Ryu’s eyes blaze and Genji thinks, quietly, to himself, that most of the men in Kuryu have very little on his young man. “If you won’t teach me, I can search for someone else, but I think you may be the only one accomplished enough.”

Genji shakes his head. “No other would be able to give you the attention and training adequate enough to teach you what you need to know. Make sure your father signs off on this so that I don’t find myself being brought before him for questions.”

Ryu smirks at him. “Of course. So you’ll teach me?”

“It would be my honor.” Genji clasps Ryu’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Now go to bed, Ryu. Come to me again when you’re ready.”

* * *

 

Ryu sits on his knees in front of his mother and father, his heart threatening to break free of the cage of his ribs and escape. The weight of this conversation already weighs heavy on his shoulders; there had been questions and exclamations over his haircut, the long strands cropped closer to his scalp than he’s ever dared prior to last night.

“I’ve made a decision.” He swallows hard around the lump in his throat, telling himself to remain in control. If he finds himself out on the streets, he has options from there and there are people who would help him even without his father’s permission. “I’ve lived a lie for the entirety of my life. I’m not your daughter. It’s not something that I can ever be.”

His father’s brow furrows in confusion. “I don’t… I don’t think that I understand your meaning.”

“I’ve never felt right, calling myself a woman. None of it’s ever felt right. The clothes, the expectations, the words. It’s not me. It could never be.” His hands tremble and he curls them into fists, refusing to let himself show any weakness now. “I can’t lie to myself like that anymore. It hurts me.”

Unbidden, the memories of last night wash over him once more, the unexpected meeting, the fear that had gripped his throat and threatened to choke him. No one should have been out and about so late, and let Genji was there— the assassin with a blade sharp enough to cut through steel. He was a man Ryu can admire, who Ryu can yearn to be. Someone who is calm, and cold, and collected, and who executes everything with speed and precision.

It seemed like such a cruel joke to run into his ideal type of man in the middle of the night when one of his urges had gotten the best of him. There had been no scissors in his room, but his knife was there, and he’d sawed through his hair to the best of his ability to give himself some kind of freedom from the rigid standards that he knows he’s supposed to follow.

He expected Genji to laugh at him, to remind him that he isn’t who he says he is, but he had agreed, and questioned nothing. That gives Ryu just enough strength to endure this meeting, even if it means the end will involve him being cast out.

Still, his eyes prickle with tears and he finds it hard to hold eye contact with his parents. “It might seem like such a trivial thing to be upset about, but I can’t do it any longer. I want to be myself.”

“What do you mean, darling?” His mother’s voice is low and soft but the strain there is clear and Ryu has to fight the urge to crumple beneath her words, her voice.

His hands twist in the loose fabric of his shirt and he takes a slow, deep breath in an effort to steady himself and steel his resolve. If he walks away now, he will never do this. “I’m not your daughter. I’m not a woman. I’m a man, and if you accept me as I am, then I’ll be your son. But if you can’t accept me, then I’ll leave the house.”

As soon as the words finally leave his lips, a single tear slips from his eye, and he quickly wipes it away and straightens his spine once more. The hard part is over now, he knows. Even if they turn him away, he let them know who he is and where he stands, and that means more to him than anything else ever could. It feels like the weight has slipped from his shoulders finally, and even if they send him away, he can at least go with the confidence he needs to create the life for himself that he’s always wanted, that he deserves.

“Let me make sure I heard you clearly.” His father looks thoughtful and Ryu presses his lips together, waiting patiently for him to speak. “You said you’re a man, right? I didn’t mishear?”

Ryu nods quickly. “You heard me correctly, Father.”

“Well, then. Come here.” His father holds out his hands and Ryu leans forward just enough to take them, trying to ignore the way his fingers tremble against his father’s wrinkled hands, worn from age and experience. “I’d always wanted a son. I loved you the moment you came into this world and I’ll love you still. I suppose we can’t call you by the same name, though.”

It takes a few moments for the words to process and when they do, Ryu has to bite down hard on his tongue and squeeze his eyes shut tight to stop the sobs. He was so ready to be thrown out that the relief that pours through every inch of his body is almost enough to completely erode his self-control. Instead, he gives himself a few minutes to calm down and then smiles at his father, aware his eyes are still wet.

“I chose a name for myself, actually. Tatsuhito.” It feels so good to use the name he has given himself, and his father smiles and squeezes his hands.

His mother leans over to touch his shoulder, then brushes a few stray tears from his cheek when they fall despite his best efforts to contain them. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters to us. If anyone in this family tries to give you any grief for who you are, then you let us know and we’ll take care of it one way or another.”

Ryu sniffles and nods, and when his father pulls him closer and into his arms, Ryu allows himself to break just this once. He lets his parents hold him and he cries out the pain and the anguish wrapped like barbs around his heart, and he lets himself hope that the future he has chosen himself and crafted with his own two hands will be enough.

* * *

He comes faithfully each day and Genji teaches him everything he knows, watching his untrained hands become deadly weapons wrapped around the hilt of his sword, watching his body pick up grace and elegance it lacked before. Ryu finds himself in each and every swing of steel, his eyes dark and dangerous and fixed on success so that every sparring session they have impresses Genji that much more each time.

It takes years of effort for Ryu to grow into a competent fighter just the same, at least one to give anyone else a run for their money. Genji knows that Ryu is serious and he pushes him more than he would have pushed anyone else, determined to see him flourish.

There have been other students, and all of them have crumpled beneath the demands that Genji makes of them, the strict training sessions and the sparring. It takes more than just desire to become truly talented at something, after all, but Ryu is beyond talented to begin with. His skill with his knife bleeds into this as well, nimble fingers and limber movements.

The only liberty Genji takes is that he refuses to leave a mark on the younger man. He could the first few times with ease, and had he been anyone else, Genji would have done just that. But Ryu is the son of a Kuryu leader and Genji has no desire to earn himself a black mark because he was too rough on a trainee. He lets his blade get close but never too close, and after the first few months, leaving a mark becomes more difficult.

By the end of year one, Ryu is too talented for Genji to land his blade on him if he wanted to.

“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you bring anyone into the house,” Genji tells him after one session, watching Ryu sheath his sword and flex his fingers to work the stiffness out of him. “You’re twenty-two now, right? Shouldn’t you be dating at that age?”

“I can’t,” Ryu says simply.

Genji cocks his head. “Why’s that? Your old man not ready to give up his only son?”

“It has nothing to do with my parents. I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to.” Ryu tugs at the collar of his robe, smoothing the fabric beneath his palm. “Every time I look in the mirror, I hate what I see there. I couldn’t let someone else see me, much less touch me, when I’m like this.”

Genji quiets, sobers at the words and sheaths his own sword. “I see. I apologize for asking.”

“Don’t. I’d like to be confident enough to let someone in one day, but today is not that day. I don’t know when it’ll come.” Ryu’s voice is hollow but he gives himself a shake and straightens his spin, turning those dark eyes on Genji. “It’ll come one day, of that much I’m sure.”

Watching Ryu bloom as a student has been an inspiring few years in Genji’s eyes; he has a knack for this, a talent that no one else does, and Genji wants to nurture it to fruition no matter what it takes. At the same time, watching him grow into himself has been a revelation. Ryu works hard to be the man he wants to become and Genji can admire that even if he does not understand everything he sees, the various changes Ryu makes to himself.

“I’d like to see that day when it comes, I think,” Genji says.

In the process of gathering his things, Ryu freezes and turns to face him, a curious expression on his pretty face. “What do you mean by that?”

“The day when you’re comfortable enough in yourself to let someone else in,” Genji explains, watching Ryu’s face carefully. “You’re already deadly with a sword and could easily take most of the enemies you’d encounter. I’d be interested to see the skill increase when you feel better.”

Ryu smirks at him, fastens his sheath back to his belt. “I’ll make sure to spar you first thing, then. I’ll bet you that I’ll manage to defeat you, even disarm you, when I’m happy with myself.”

The thought makes Genji smirk. The devil works hard, but Genji works harder.

Genji rests a hand on Ryu’s shoulder and squeezes it, and Ryu lifts his chin, surveying him with those dark, dark eyes. Their training has been an oasis in the otherwise boring and stifling atmosphere of Kuryu, something Genji is only used to when he has a mission or a task to accomplish, and his skills are not always necessary. The occasional assassin job can preoccupy him for a while, but nothing ever lasts and he doesn’t enjoy the business aspects of this job as much as the dragons do. He enjoys the bloodshed and the thrill of the fight.

He might be mistaken, but he thinks Ryu leans into his touch before he pulls away. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, then. Also… My father has been discussing me taking his place.”

“It’s up to you if you want to do that. None of the others were able to take such a position at your age, but you’re a unique one.” Genji knows, without having to say it, that Ryu will make the choice that is right for him in this matter. “In the end, it’s up to you. If you want to talk more about it, you’re welcome to approach me about it at any time.”

Ryu hesitates in the doorway, looking back at him, wetting his lips before he speaks. “Why do you say all of these things to me? You’ve helped me out more than most people by doing nothing more than listening to me, and I’m grateful, but I don’t understand.”

“You’re training under me, so I have a certain responsibility.” Genji lets that sink in, then shakes his head. “I like you, Ryu. You’re interesting, you’re strong. And I want you to grow stronger every day. It’s not any more complicated than that even if it doesn’t make sense to you yet.”

* * *

There are days when Ryu refuses to look at his appearance in the mirror in his bathroom, averting his eyes from the reflective glass. Keeping his chair cropped short ensures he has little to do to keep it neat and tidy, or at least neat enough to please his parents and the rest of Kuryu. He can live the life he chooses to live, but he has to keep up appearances just the same; neatly brushed hair, slicked back when necessary. Pressed three-piece suits, vest buttoned, tie tied at the base of his throat.

Because his father loves him, Ryu gets away with more than anyone else would be allowed at certain functions. He wears looser pants and longer jackets, hiding the part of his waist that flares out into his hips. They’re narrow enough but still not quite as narrow as he wants them to be, but there are ways to disguise that. The layers he can appreciate sometimes, because the multitude of fabric hides his chest from sight, an easier task than wearing a binder. He donated his shortly after acquiring it; the pain and the shortness of breath, the pressure on his ribs— none of it suits him. He doesn’t want to get used to it.

His face is not what upsets him. With less hair surrounding his features and the framing effect lost, he thinks his features may just fit him after all. If someone had asked him what bothers him so much, what makes it difficult for him to go about each day, he would have to say the sum of his parts in total, the image he gives off if not dressed just right. Though having the entirety of Kuryu recognizing him as a man, and referring to him as such, feels better than he could have ever imagined it might.

This morning, though, Ryu forces himself to confront his reflection in the mirror. As a man, he’s been referred to as beautiful, as stunning even, with the face of a model. There have been jokes about such a pretty face being a yakuza, but nothing biting, nothing that stings, and Ryu has slowly, oh so slowly, been stretching his wings as a result.

The hormones have helped, of course. The smaller, gradual changes over months, over the two years he has been taking them, have been noticeable and Ryu turns his head this way and that, letting himself preen for just a moment, just a breath of admiration. He is the only one who can look at himself like this, of course, because no one else has been able to get close to him. A few members of Kuryu have looked at him— he doesn’t mind so much when it’s someone like Nikaido, just as sharp-featured, someone Ryu wishes he could be.

It helps, of course, that Nikaido only prefers the company of men.

“You are a man,” Ryu tells himself, his voice quiet but still echoing in the expanse of his bathroom. He plants his hands firmly on the sink counter, forcing himself to look into his own eyes. “You’re a man. No one can take that away from you now.”

He isn’t so fragile anymore. With every day that passes, he finds himself a little more confident in himself, in the body that belongs to him. It helps that he’s been able to try new things, make adjustments, buy clothes suited to display his body as he wants others to see it.

_ So why not test that out? _ The question comes unbidden and Ryu squirms a bit at it, running his fingers through his hair, careful not to disrupt where it’s slicked back for today’s meeting.  _ It can’t hurt to try. If anyone hurts you, then kill them. But it’s worth giving it a shot. _

He once told Genji that he would never let someone else touch him while he still felt so weak and unsure of himself, but things have changed.  _ He _ has changed, and the way he looks at himself, the way he considers himself. Looking in the mirror, at all of the ways his body was wrong and how it never fit him correctly, made him afraid to let someone else look at him, and find him wanting, jagged puzzle pieces instead of the sum of his parts.

_ Does a stranger’s word matter as much as my own? If a man looks at me and decides I’m not who I say I am, is it going to set me back? Ruin all of my hard work? _

Ryu unties his tie, reties it and smoothes the fabric before tucking it beneath his vest. “The only way to find out is to be willing to take the plunge. But I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

As much as he tells himself that it doesn’t matter to him— he has his own hands for pleasure when he wants it and more than enough people in Kuryu to keep him company when he’s bored— he wants to know that intimacy, the intimacy that comes with having someone who looks at each and every part of you and loves you just the same. Who loves you more, for your flaws and faults and imperfections. Is it so wrong to want something like that?

There’s no one in Kuryu he trusts with himself like that, though, which means he’d have to leave the house and find someone out in the world. Someone who doesn’t know him, who will only know what Ryu tells them to be true, and though he has misgivings still, he wants to.

On the way to the meeting room, Ryu pulls up a handful of gay clubs he can visit and saves a few that are close by, rationalizing it’s easier to get back home as soon as possible rather than head into another city and not have as much security. Intent on his cell phone, he doesn’t even realize he’s about to collide with someone until he does.

Nikaido smoothes out the slight rumple in his jacket and looks Ryu up and down. “Careful,” he chides, and Ryu nods just once. “You look handsome this morning, Ryu-kun.”

“Thank you, Nikaido-san.” Ryu pockets his phone and continues on to the meeting room, his confidence buoyed just enough to go through with this plan.

* * *

Ryu does not layer up before going to the club. Wearing too many layers will likely be strange, and he’s looking to get noticed, not to hide himself away from the rest of the world. Still, he frets over the simple black t-shirt, pulling at the front of it, not sure if his chest is quite small enough to get away with this, not wanting to wear anything beneath it. If no one notices, then so be it. If a man touches his back and can feel any fabric beneath, it might be hard to explain away.

In the end, he keeps the t-shirt on, pairs it with jeans, and calls it good enough. As far as he’s concerned, he should be attractive enough just like this. And he wants to see the reaction to him, just him, in the plainest and simplest state, with no decoration added.

He sits himself at the bar, orders a drink, and surveys the club. The room is lit mostly by strobe lights, white lights behind the bar, and the bass makes the building tremble just slightly. No one looks twice at him as he walks in and just this once, he’s thankful for not being recognized.

A man on the small stage at the front of the club catches his attention and he turns around in his seat to watch, sipping at the drink in his hand, rolling the flavors around on his tongue. It’s hard to make out details from this distance but the man has a hypnotic voice and an excellent flow; Ryu’s head bobs in rhythm with his words and he closes his eyes, letting it roll through him.

The only detail he makes out from here is the black and white checked jacket, garish in such a setting but Ryu likes the look of it. When the man leaves the stage, Ryu turns around, no longer interested. Fate would have it that seconds later, that man would take the seat next to him and order a drink, seeming not to notice anyone else around him.

Ryu downs the rest of his drink and clears his throat, running his fingers through his hair to pull it back out of his eyes. “Hey,” he says, waiting until the man looks at him, “you were great up there.”

This close, Ryu can easily make out details. Soft curly hair, obviously dyed the golden blond it is but it looks good against the man’s smooth brown skin, almost glowing in the lights behind the bar. His dark brown eyes are long-lashed and beautiful, and when he processes Ryu’s words they sparkle like something is flipped inside of him, lighting him up from the inside. He’s gorgeous and Ryu feels a pang somewhere between desire and envy.

“Hey, man, thanks.” The man’s eyes dart up and down and Ryu says nothing, though he’s poised to bolt if the man notices the wrong things about him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before and  _ that _ is a disappointment. I’m Ice. What’s your name, pretty boy?”

_ Pretty boy. _ “I’m Ryu. It’s my first time, so you wouldn’t know me.” Ryu nudges his empty glass away from him, propping an elbow up on the bar. “You come here often, then?”

“Hey, bartender, bring him another of whatever he’s drinking and bring me a beer!” Ice smirks at Ryu, as if waiting for him to contradict, before he turns back to him properly. “Yeah, yeah! I love being onstage, music really gets me going. I’ve been rapping most of my life.”

“You’re very talented at it. It’s most of what I listen to, so I have a frame of reference.” It’s what he listens to, not that he tends to share that with anyone else.

Ice’s smile widens further and his eyes glitter. “Cute  _ and _ you listen to good music? You’re already a dream come true. So what’s a pretty boy like you doing here all alone? Figured you’d have a guy or girl or two hanging off of you lookin’ like all that.”

“I’m a busy man.” It isn’t a lie, not technically. “But even that gets tiring after a while.”

The bartender brings them their drinks and Ice turns all the way around in his seat, giving Ryu his full and open attention, something that is almost enough to overwhelm Ryu given the circumstances. Just because he’s been working up to something like this— a chance encounter in a bar, trying to talk to a handsome man— doesn’t mean he was prepared for the reality of it or being under someone’s intense gaze. But he refuses to back down now.

“If no one’s laid claim to you yet, you should let me take you out on the dance floor tonight.” Ice gestures to the mass of writhing bodies and Ryu’s lips twitch at the thought. “Might be selfish but I don’t plan on sharin’ tonight, I wanna keep you all to myself.”

Now, that thought is a far more attractive one. “If you’re serious, then I’ll dance with you.”

Ice blinks at him, apparently startled before he warms his way back around to a smile. The moment they finish their drinks, a new song starts, one with a heavier bass that Ryu can feel through his chest. When Ice offers his hand, Ryu takes it and allows himself to be lead out onto the dance floor, reminding himself to breathe and not to run away. It’s easier to distract himself from such thoughts when Ice pulls him in close, a hand on Ryu’s hip to keep him near.

Something about him is magnetic enough that even the stupid things he say make Ryu smile, shaking his head at how over-the-top Ice can be. Halfway through the fourth song and Ice moves in closer, close enough to make Ryu hesitate, a hand drifting up his spine.

“Gonna be honest,” Ice confides, “but I wanna kiss you so bad. You’ve got such a nice mouth.”

Ryu doesn’t answer him. Instead, he lets impulse guide him and winds an arm around Ice’s shoulders, bringing their mouths together. Ice makes a noise against his lips and then kisses him back with gusto, pulling Ryu flush against his chest, deepening the kiss with teeth and tongue until Ryu struggles to keep up with him. If Ice notices, he gives no indication. His hands roam up and down Ryu’s back as he kisses him, tongue sweeping through his mouth.

When Ryu pulls back for air, Ice’s eyes are shining again. “You really are something special.”

“Nah.” Ryu shakes his head. “I’m ordinary, all things considered.”

“Ain’t nothing ordinary about you. Couldn’t ever be.” Ice says this with the confidence of someone who knows Ryu intimately, not someone who just met him in a club tonight. “Man, not to weird you out if you ain’t that into me but I want your number. I wanna get together with you again like this, if you’re up for it. You’ve got some kinda dark magic, pulling me in.”

Ryu scoffs at him, letting his fingers sift through Ice’s curls. Their bodies are still pressed close together and Ryu expects Ice to say something, anyway, about Ryu’s body. He doesn’t. “You can have my phone number. I’d like to get to know you, anyway.”

He lets Ice kiss him again and again until he’s high off the rush.

* * *

Just past his twenty-fifth birthday, Ryu sends Genji’s sword skittering away on the floor beneath them and they end the sparring session with the tip of Ryu’s sword almost touching Genji’s throat. The way he carried himself when he walked through the doorway caught Genji’s attention immediately, the bounce in his step even though his face remained stoic as always. Now, though, Ryu smirks, lifts his chin in the way Genji has come to know so well.

“I win,” he says.

Genji wraps a hand around the blade of his sword, not tight enough to cut himself, but enough to direct it away from his throat. “So you have. I knew you would one day.”

“You were right. When I became confident in myself, my talent grew. I felt more sure of myself.” Ryu holds the sword up in front of his eyes; the sunlight streaming through the room reflects off the blade, leaving a stripe across his skin that lights up his eyes. “And I defeated you.”

Other teachers would have taken Ryu’s words negatively, a shot at their technique, at the effort they put into teaching a student only to have a student respond in such a way. Instead, Genji straightens his spine and feels a slow curl of pride work its way between his ribs; pride in this young man and everything he symbolizes, pride in how much work he has put into becoming who he is today, in training and fighting and listening, in pushing his body farther than it would have otherwise liked to go. In the end, it paid off.

“I’m proud of you,” Genji tells him.

Ryu’s eyes shift to him quickly, and silence hangs in the air between them before Ryu nods. “Thank you. And thank you for teaching me as much as you have.”

“The pleasure was mine, to have a student grow so quickly, and to pick up so many skills so quickly.” Genji retrieves his sword and sheathes it, and distantly he wonders what he would have thought, years ago, if he knew the young man determined to throw away a plastic bag full of crudely cut hair was going to best him one day.

He might not have been surprised, to tell the truth.

“I met someone.” Ryu sheathes his own sword, adjusting where it hangs at his waist. “His name is Ice. I wanted to go to a club, meet someone, see what other men thought of me. He’s, ah, a singer, and he seems to like me quite a bit. It’s been an interesting experience.”

This is not surprising information; Genji watched Ryu walk back to the house several nights, the scent of smoke and alcohol hanging around him, a small private smile on his lips. Still, he nods. “It’s good to hear, Ryu. That’s something you deserve to have in your life.”

“I don’t think I’d call what we have a relationship, as neither of us is exactly thinking about monogamy at the moment, but it’s still very reassuring that someone like him finds me attractive.” Ryu’s phone is in his hands a moment later and Genji hums, intrigued. Though the two of them have been training together for years, and he has been the shoulder he can be for Ryu’s frustrations, this is new, Ryu opening up like this. “This is him.”

The man in the picture that Ryu shows him is handsome, definitely, bordering on beautiful and Ryu is standing next to him. Ice has an arm around Ryu’s waist, and the two of them definitely look cozy together. Genji chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“It’s nice to see you smiling like that,” he says.

Ryu yanks the phone back, lifting his chin. “He makes me happy.”

“You deserve to be happy, Ryu, even if you aren’t always. You still deserve to be.” Genji sets a hand on Ryu’s shoulder and squeezes as he has so many times before, not missing the way Ryu leans into his touch, not denying it to himself any longer. “Ryu, you’re—”

Those dark eyes challenge him and Ryu takes a step forward, daringly close, closer than he’s ever initiated in anything other than a fight. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not afraid for anyone to see me, to touch me. Least of all you. You’ve known longer than anyone else.”

“I have.” Genji shifts his hand, letting his fingers brush the side of Ryu’s throat, watching the way his pupils dilate with the touch. His skin is soft, warm to the touch, heated by the sunlight and the fact the two of them had been sparring for nearly an hour before having a decisive victory. “If you’re concerned about me rejecting you, you don’t need to be.”

“Nothing against Ice, but if I’m going to enjoy my first time, it has to be with someone I can trust explicitly, and someone who has enough experience to make the effort worth it.” Ryu swallows hard and Genji follows the motion with his fingers, feeling the way Ryu’s body shudders in answer to his touch. “I trust you to make it well worth my while. And I want you.”

Genji considers these words, weighing them in his mind while he cups the back of Ryu’s neck. “You’re sweaty, most likely from sparring. As am I. We should share a shower.”

The shower room just off of the training hall was put in place at Genji’s request, his only request so far having been a member of Kuryu for most of his life. It makes it easier to wash up after difficult training, and no one else is brave enough to enter his space without asking first, so they have no worry of someone walking in and catching them. A bonus, because Genji can only imagine how someone would respond if they found him touching Ryu.

Watching Ryu disrobe now is an interesting sight, the way he easily removes each piece of clothing, bares his body to Genji’s eyes. Ryu is beautiful, of course, in more ways than one, easily the most beautiful man Genji has ever laid eyes on, smooth skin and the easy grace of a predator. No other man would ever appeal to him without having that same dangerous edge, the one that Ryu carries in his heart with more pride than Genji can process.

He’s deadly even though his skin is soft when Genji catches him around the waist, admiring the way Ryu arches into his touch without shame.

“Only a taste for now,” Genji tells him, ignoring the sweet way Ryu pouts at him. “I’d rather do the rest in bed with you, give you the time and attention you deserve. What I will give you will make it well worth the wait for you, though.”

Ryu considers. “Fine, I suppose. But it better be well worth it.”

The seat in the corner of the shower is where Genji guides Ryu, capturing his chin in one hand and kissing him, determined to taste the sweetness of his lips. Ryu opens to him like he’s wanted this for far longer than he says, fingers gripping Genji’s shoulders tightly, as if determined to keep him close. Genji lets him for just a moment, enjoying this, reveling in the way Ryu’s tongue curls shyly against his own, inviting him in deeper.

He kneels between Ryu’s legs, spreading his thighs wider, pulling him to the edge of the seat so Genji has the best angle available. Ryu’s fingers tangle in his hair, and though he can see the slight flush spreading beneath Ryu’s skin, he still urges Genji closer to him.

He’s wet already, as if the promise of what he would receive was enough to excite him, and maybe it was, if he’s never been with anyone else before. Genji keeps an arm around his waist and slips the other beneath his thigh, keeping Ryu right where he wants him as he presses his mouth between his legs. Ryu is hotter here, and softer, and he opens around Genji’s tongue even as his entire body tenses up, trembling, unused to this sensation.

Genji soothes Ryu’s skin with his hands, working the tension out of his thigh as he licks the silky moisture off of Ryu’s skin, the taste of him heavy on Genji’s tongue. When Ryu moans softly and bucks his hips forward, Genji tightens his grip on him, not wanting him to slide off of the seat and end up hurting himself. He only wants Ryu to feel pleasure now.

“Please, please.” Ryu’s hands tremble on top of his head, his thighs already quivering from the pleasure, the touch of another person pushing him closer to the edge faster than it should. Genji thinks he must be sensitive, or that the long wait has made even small things feel so much more to him. “Genji, please, it’s so good—”

He breaks off into a small, desperate sound and Genji smiles against him, running his tongue between Ryu’s labia, licking down to the entrance of his body where he’s slick. Ryu moans louder, higher, an exceptional noise from a man who is so normally soft-spoken.

Genji will pull more noises out of him at a later date, until Ryu has no more sounds left for him.

He comes quicker than Genji would have liked but from the way his entire body jolts and quakes, from the way he gasps and whimpers and clings to Genji, he must have enjoyed it. His narrow chest heaves from his breathing, his head resting against the wall behind him. Genji takes in the sight of him, delightfully tousled, before he helps Ryu wash off.

When they’re dressed, Ryu walks up to him, frames Genji’s face in his hands and presses a quick, sweet kiss to his lips. “Thank you. I’ll look forward to more.”

Genji chuckles. “Of course, Ryu.”

* * *

“I’m trans,” Ryu tells Ice one night, the two of them curled up together on Ice’s couch, Ice’s arm curled around his shoulders, keeping him close. “I understand if that’s a deal breaker for you, but it’s an important part of who I am, and I wanted you to know that.”

Ice is quiet for a moment, thumb brushing over the curve of Ryu’s shoulder. “So, like, a trans man? I’m getting you, ain’t I?”

Ryu nods. “You are.”

“Okay. Thanks for trusting me, babe. It ain’t change the way I look at you or anything, you’re still my boy, just let me know if I can do anything for you.” Ice turns his head, presses a kiss to Ryu’s temple, and it’s so easy with him. “You’re my brave, beautiful man, and I’m glad I got to meet you. Real privilege, that.”

Little things shouldn’t mean so much. Little words shouldn’t make his chest feel so light and airy, make his heart beat a little faster and his face a little warmer. The soft press of Ice’s lips against his skin, the security of the arm around him, the simple pleasure of being next to a man who knows him, who sees him for who he is, and not as a collection of labels… It’s the little things, he thinks. Ryu still remembers the sight of his face in the mirror as he sawed through his own hair with a knife, back when the little things were all he had to subside on.

He’s learned to cherish the little things.

**Author's Note:**

> god this one ended up being long oops. come hang out on [tumblr](http://noboritaiga.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/noboritaiga) if you wanna talk sword


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